Back to December
by mysterious-song
Summary: Who would've known that one simple song could be the key to happiness? Jenny didn't. Neither did Jethro. At least until the night that changed everything.


Disclaimer: Does it really need stating that a 16 year old schoolgirl who targets her obsession at certain TV characters does not own NCIS or any of the characters?

Spoilers: Some for seasons 3-5 of NCIS, but mostly the relationship between Jenny and Jethro.

A/N: Ok, I know I haven't updated anything for years (literally) but I seemed to have had a lack of inspiration and I've been busy doing my GCSEs. Our school is too complicated and it has to be different to most other schools and do half our GCSEs one year and half the next, so work is intense. So anyway, (off on a tangent there) I still read fan fiction when I'm at school, but at home? It's just school work, eating and bed. So I decided to try and get back into writing again. I put on my iPod and one of my all-time favourite songs was playing and WHAM! I was hit with an idea. It's not my best piece of work as I'm a bit rusty, so feedback would be great. So anyway, I'm rambling again, going to try and stop now and let you read my story. Hopefully you'll like it, so, read on...

(by the way it's not Beta'd so there might be a few mistakes, sorry)

Looking at the makeshift stage made from a few flat tables and some extra pieces of board secured on top, Jenny Shepard wondered what on earth she had gotten herself into. She swore she had only had a few drinks, admittedly of bourbon but that was beside the point, so why she had let herself be volunteered for karaoke she had no idea. She would back out but once the group around her had put their minds to something, there was few people who could talk their way out of it. Usually Jenny was good at that but alcohol must've altered her skills as she was still being led to the side of the stage.

"You know, I really can't sing." Jenny said, once last try couldn't hurt right?

"Nonsense my dear girl, you can sing beautifully." Ducky insisted. Yes, Ducky. Ever faithful, wonderful, trustworthy Ducky had grouped up against her too.

"No. I really can't." Still protesting she was led to the steps leading up to the platform she was being asked to sing on.

"Tough, mommy. You have to." The Goth nicknamed 'energizer Abby' had taken up the endearment almost as soon as she had seen Gibbs and Jenny interact. And since then it had kind of stuck. "Now get up there and show us what you got."

Stepping forward onto centre stage, Jenny took the microphone and the music started playing. She recognised the melody as a song with significant value to her. The song, although fitted to her life perfectly, would not be found anywhere near her. She may know the words, but those were because they were so much like hers. The way she loved, the way she left, the way she regrets. Hearing her cue, she took a deep breath and sang the first few lines.

"I'm so glad you made time to see me.  
>How's life? Tell me, how's your family?<br>I haven't seen them in a while."

Thinking about it, him coming into her office every now and then was him making time, to see her. She knew from all the time she spent with him, he wasn't known for regular meals. So when we turned up at her office door, barging in with her favourite 'steak au poivre' she didn't mind that he didn't knock. He never had to.

"You've been good, busier than ever,  
>We small talk, work and the weather.<br>Your guard is up, and I know why."

She remembered seeing him for the first time in six years, she wouldn't say he hadn't changed; he had. But that's what made him Jethro. They fell into something they couldn't place; more than friendship but not quite a relationship. When they talked, they talked about safe topics; recent cases, the antics of his fellow teammates and sometimes the weather. They hardly mentioned their past with the exception of some light teasing. But when it comes to what happened on the night she left? She runs. Because she hurt him.

"Because the last time you saw me is still burned in the back of your mind;  
>You gave me roses, and I left them there to die." <p>

He didn't give her flowers often, but when he did, they were usually for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries, or to make up for an argument or forgetting aforementioned occasions. And they were nearly always roses. The last time he gave her roses, she left them under her coat, too painful a reminder to take with her, so she left them there to die.

"So this is me swallowing my pride,  
>Standing in front of you, saying I'm sorry for that night."<p>

And she was. So very sorry. He doesn't believe in apologies, he says they're a 'sign of weakness'. Then why was it so hard to say it to him? Two simple words that show the extent of her regret over leaving him.

"And I go back to December all the time.  
>It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,<br>Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine.  
>I go back to December, turn around and make it alright.<br>I go back to December all the time." 

She didn't realise it then, but he was perfect for her. Loving, caring, not unattractive and perfect. He kept his secrets, but so did she. He never said he loved her, he didn't need to; he showed her. With the whispers and touches she couldn't forget. How could she? He made her feel more alive than anyone has, and anyone will. She'd give anything to go back and make it alright.

"These days, I haven't been sleeping,  
>Staying up, playing back myself leaving.<br>When your birthday passed, and I didn't call." 

She couldn't remember the last time she had a full night's sleep. Couldn't remember the last peaceful dream she had. Nowadays, the majority of thoughts she had at night were reflecting on her life. Jenny Shepard had grown up; before, she was young, naive and reckless. But she knew what she wanted. Or what she thought she wanted. This job was her life ambition, at some points she thought she'd never achieve it. Yet some days, when she'd sit there, case reports piled up before her, sister agencies ticked off due to a certain agent, when her mind would start wandering to what could've been her worst mistake and all she wants to do is go home, she would contemplate if this job was really worth giving up everything she had. Giving up him.

"Then I think about summer, all the beautiful times,  
>I watched you laughing from the passenger side,<br>Realized I loved you in the fall." 

This song reminded her of the times she'd spend with him. The times when nothing else in the world mattered. Sitting in cars, reading through files, making jokes out of the people walking by who would stare at them, laughing and joking. His smile... she couldn't remember the last time she saw him smile. Really smile. The smile that lights up his eyes along with the whole room. The smile that can make women weak at the knees. The smile that she fell for. Hard. 

"And then the cold came, the dark days, when fear crept into my mind.  
>You gave me all your love, and all I gave you was goodbye." <p>

That winter changed everything. The fights were becoming more frequent and painful each time. Yelling. Screaming. Walking out. Finding ways to hurt the other trying to take their mind off their own suffering. He made it up to her. She made it up to him. But the things they said, they remained in her head, scared her. What if he meant those words? What if he didn't want her anymore? What if..?

He had shown her love, real love. He had loved her, she had loved him, but she was vulnerable, trusting him with her life, and her heart. That was not a position Jenny Shepard felt safe in. And so she left. With nothing but a letter in a pocket of the coat he gave her the previous Christmas. He had loved her and she left him with nothing but goodbye.

"So this is me swallowing my pride,  
>Standing in front of you, saying I'm sorry for that night.<br>And I go back to December all the time.  
>It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,<br>Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine.  
>I go back to December, turn around and change my own mind.<br>I go back to December all the time."

In the interlude, she heard a few 'whoop's and a 'go Jenny!'. But she wasn't concentrating. Well, not on that. What had she done? The only man she'd ever truly loved and she'd gone and given him up. For sitting at her desk doing paperwork, watching him leave with his team to go out in the field and eat 'rubber chicken dinners', as he would say, with politicians so bad at chat-up lines she almost gave them a top-tips session. Some were decent, fewer she was interested in, and even fewer were company she enjoyed. But she didn't want any of them. None of them. They weren't him. She wanted him. The man she loved. She always had and she always would. She looked over at him, sat at the table. Green eyes met blue, so full of emotion. Singing the next few words she knew she had to look away, somewhere, anywhere but there.

"I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right.  
>And how you held me in your arms that September night.<br>The first time you ever saw me cry."

She missed everything about him. Even the things she'd complain about before. Him leaving his dirty boxers on the floor when the washing basket was two steps away. Him getting out of bed for coffee and not caring whether he took the sheets with him and made her cold. Him teasing her when he knew they had to get out of bed soon or they'd be in trouble. His salty skin that mingled with hers, the way he touched her and made her feel loved, the sweet nothings whispered in her ear as they lay together, her head on his chest and him running his fingers through her hair. The way they always did. The way he would treat her so delicately, with such care, that made her feel like she was the only girl in the world.

The September after Marseilles, she had been shot. A round to the thigh. In the middle of nowhere. She honestly thought she was going to die. But Gibbs wouldn't let her say goodbye, oh no. He was adamant she would make it through. And she did. Just. But it took its toll on her. She realised in that moment how short life is. And if you want something, you go for it. Because you never know how long you have left on this world. He held her that night. And she cried. For the first time he saw the real Jenny. Not the team Jenny who'd scare his agents for messing with her desk or chair, not the agent Jenny who went out to get a job done and almost certainly wouldn't be happy if she didn't finish it. No. He saw the pure to the core Jenny, the little girl whose tough exterior needed a lot to falter and break, but when it did, he put it back together.

"Maybe this is wishful thinking, probably mindless dreaming,  
>But if we loved again, I swear I'd love you right." <p>

She was hopelessly dreaming. She knew that. Jethro didn't give second chances, and even if he did, she didn't deserve one. But she couldn't help but think, about the could-have-beens, would they be married? Would they have kids? Would they be happy? She swore to herself that if he ever did give her a second chance, she would take it in an instant. She would grab it with both hands and hold on with everything she had. She would give him everything but her heart. He had that already.

"I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't,  
>So if the chain is on your door, I understand." <p>

She knew she couldn't turn back time, it was a physical impossibility. And she thought that he deserved better than her, understood if he hated her and never wanted to see her again. Catching Jethro's eye again in the sea of people in front of her, she was only mildly shocked to feel the moisture building in her eyes. She tried to blink it away and thought she had succeeded, only to feel that lone tear rolling down her cheek.

"But this is me swallowing my pride,  
>Standing in front of you, saying I'm sorry for that night.<br>And I go back to December...  
>It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you,<br>Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine.  
>I go back to December, turn around and make it alright,<br>I go back to December, turn around and change my own mind,  
>I go back to December all the time, all the time."<p>

The song ended. The applause sounded, people were shouting her name and whistling. And she didn't care. She stepped off the stage, handing the microphone to the first person she could. Making a personal vendetta against karaoke she made her way to the fire escape, needing to clear her head.

She opened the door and welcomed the cold rush of air that took her breath away. Leaning against the nearest sturdy structure she let out the breath she didn't know she'd been holding, closed her eyes and let one more lonely tear making its way to join the other.

She felt his presence before she heard him, steeling herself she turned around and not prepared to see the emotion in his eyes, turned back again. She felt his steady hands on her shoulders, gently turning her body and moving her in front of him. When she still didn't look raise her head he curled his finger under her chin and placed his thumb under her lip, tilting her head up.

"Jen, look at me."

The green eyes that met his were shining with unshed tears, but she wouldn't let another fall. Couldn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to say the two words she had never built up the courage to before, but needed to say now. But just before any coherent words could leave her mouth, two fingers were placed over her lips, effectively silencing her.

"I know, Jen."

With that he removed his fingers and brushed his lips against hers, ever so softly, and with such tenderness that almost made her fall to her knees. Her eyelids fluttered closed as her hands sought his.

Pulling away she looked in his eyes again then her gaze drifted downwards bashfully. Jethro tucked a stray lock of hair that fell out of her up-do behind her ear. She looked up at him again and smiled, her eyes outshining the stars above them. In that moment her new-found hatred of karaoke lessened. He was hers once more.

Yes, they would have their problems; she was troublesome and he was so god-damn infuriating, but he was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And she couldn't love him more.

Please review, it makes me happy to know people read my work and I would love to know your opinion, good or bad, I don't mind.

Please


End file.
